


a taste of darkness

by PoemIsDead



Category: JackSepticEye (YouTube RPF), Markiplier (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Begging, Desperation, Dirty Talk, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Foot Jobs, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mostly porn, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Punishment, Shameless Smut, Well a little plot, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-06 14:16:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12819318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoemIsDead/pseuds/PoemIsDead
Summary: Jack discovers that Mark's Darkiplier persona may be closer to the truth than he knew.





	1. First Taste

**Author's Note:**

> Rewatched A Date With Markiplier, and had to take a quick break from the other fic to write some Dark/Jack style smut.
> 
> To clarify, Mark is not actually the "demon" Darkiplier. He's just acting like him. There are no supernatural elements.
> 
> WARNING: This fic does include violence (though no blood play or gore) and rough depictions of sexual encounters, including whipping and orgasm denial. "Dark" is very much a dom here, but everything is consensual. You have been warned.
> 
> EDIT: Actually turned out way more vanilla than I intended, so, you know, read at your own discretion.

"You don't want me."

Jack swallowed hard, looking at the American with a touch of hurt, a touch of surprise. He'd expected a lot of things when he finally told Mark how he felt, how much he'd wanted him. They'd been dancing around the topic for months now, the careful pretend flirting for the ship jokes turning into something hotter, heavier, as Jack realized he was much more attracted to the man than he'd care to admit.

And Mark had seemed interested, too. At least, Jack thought he was. The way he looked at him from across the room sometimes, catching his eyes with this hungry look, one side of his face turning into this crooked grin. Jack didn't have a lot of experience with this kind of thing, especially with males, but he was pretty sure he could tell when someone wanted him. And Mark was definitely looking like he wanted him.

He didn't bring it up right away. They flirted at first, for a while, making passing jokes and finding excuses to touch each other when Jack visited. The Irishman was careful, so careful, with his advances. Mark was a friend, a good friend, and one he very much didn't want to lose if he fucked this up. But at the same time, he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep their relationship strictly platonic. The tension had been building between them for so long, and with a convention as an excuse to come visit, he had found himself staying in the spare room at his friend's house. And when they were left alone tonight, Jack decided it was finally time to take advantage of the situation.

So he told him. Just came right out and said it, as they were flirting in the kitchen, Mark teasing that Jack had only come to America for him, that he just wanted him.

"I do want ya," he'd told him, his voice taking a more serious turn, as he looked at him through thick lashes, his heartbeat rising with the excitement of finally saying it outright. Mark's expression had changed, his eyes going dark as he watched him, his head tilting to the side ever so slightly. Jack had to fight not to panic as he tried to understand the expression, and a nervous smile crept up his face as he continued. "I mean, we do have the whole house to ourselves-"

"You don't want me."

He'd been ready for an outright denial. Or a refusal. Declarations that he was strictly a straight man, or that he wasn't into him, or that he wasn't interested in a relationship. He hadn't really expected . . . this.

"What . . . what do you mean?"

Mark seemed to consider for a moment, his lips turning down in a small frown, before he shook his head and threw a hand in the air, laughing.

"I mean, I'm not really the guy you want," he said, all light hearted, like he was making a joke. "I'm not exactly relationship material, if you know what I mean."

He was being goofy. Playing around. Like the usual Mark, but . . . not quite. There was an anxiety to his movements that Jack could almost taste, the way he wouldn't look right at him, the way he talked too fast, the way his hands fluttered to the counter behind him, looking for something to keep them busy. It was just slightly off. But enough for him to notice.

"Um," he said after a pause, his brow furrowing as he took a step closer to the America, slowly cornering him in the massive kitchen. "I'm pretty sure I know wha' I want." 

"Mmmm, I'm pretty sure you don't," Mark replied, easy, his fidgeting hands finding a pen and twisting it, clicking it, looking like he might break it if he squeezed much harder. Jack felt a touch of annoyance flush through him, and he took another step closer, ignoring the way Mark stiffened.

"Oh?" he said, and he could hear the mixture of tensions in his voice. He was just glad it hadn't cracked. "And what, _you_ do?"

Mark's eyes snapped up to look at him, rich and deep, and with just the slightest hint of sadness. He was looking at him from the sides of his eyes, his head turned away to examine the pen, and there was an edge to his voice when he spoke again.

"I know . . . I know what you don't want. And you don't want me."

Jack frowned, confused now, unsure of where he stood. Mark didn't really seem to be saying he didn't want him. And he definitely didn't seem to be outright opposed to a man. He honestly seemed more concerned for Jack, which the Irishman certainly hadn't been prepared for. He had no fight ready for that one.

"Mark. I . . . I don't know why ya would think that. You're my best friend. You're funny, and you're smart, and you're kind." He'd gotten close enough to touch him now, one hand reaching out for his hip, running a finger carefully across the bone through his clothes. Mark shuddered ever so slightly beneath the touch. "And you're sexy as hell."

That crooked smile crept up the American's face, though he wouldn't look him straight on. His eyes seemed to be examining Jack's collarbone as it stuck out from his shirt, his brows pulled together just slightly, and his tongue darting out to wet his lips before he responded.

"I'm a little different when it comes to sex."

Jack leaned closer, his arms on either side of him, pinning him there as he brought his face closer to Mark's. He needed to do this now. He'd already taken the plunge, already come out and said it. Mark wasn't turning him down outright. He had to at least try a little before he gave up, before he let their relationship go back to the way it was. He wanted to taste what it could be, just once, if this wasn't actually going to happen.

"I don't care."

Jack pressed his lips carefully against Mark's, slow at first, testing the waters, ready to pull away if Mark responded badly. His lips were rough, but warm, and Jack made a little involuntary noise high in his throat as he kissed him, slow, almost chaste. For a single, long moment, Mark didn't move, and Jack was sure he was going to reject him, push him away and deny his desires. He was ready for it, ready for the sting and ready to try and fix the relationship he had buggered.

But then Mark opened his mouth, slowly, and returned the kiss, and Jack wanted to melt against him. He was slow, took his time, his lips skilled as he took control and guided the kiss. He caught Jack's lip between his teeth and applied pressure, gently, then a bit harder, and Jack moaned against him, giving in to all the seedy little desires that had been building up for so long. He was already losing his poker face, a little whine escaping his lips as he gasped into Mark's mouth.

Mark's hand came up to twist in Jacks hair, holding him where he wanted him as his tongue probed his lips. Jack opened without hesitation, letting him in and making little needy sounds in between gasping breaths. The build up had been so long, and it felt so good to finally _touch_.

Mark caught his lip again, and bit, a little harder this time, earning another whine from his companion.

"Stupid," he hissed against his mouth, and Jack couldn't help but grin against him, his hands coming around to grip his hips and hold him closer.

"Don't care."

Mark took a sharp breath, stilling beneath him, his body humming with energy under Jack's hands.

"We'll see about that."

Suddenly, firm hands came up to grip his arms, moving him forcefully around until their positions were reversed, Jack pressed against the counter, wedged in the little corner he had trapped Mark in. Firm hands pressed against him, turning him around, shoving him until he was pressed faced down against the counter, one arm pulled hard behind his back, Mark curled over him.

Jack's heart raced in his throat, a little choked sound escaping his lips, as the counter cooled against his cheek. Mark was stronger than he expected, firmer, his hands practiced and sure against him as he pinned him down. There was no give to his body, and Jack wondered if he would even be able to escape if he tried. Mark was absolute behind him, steady, immovable, only his hiked breathing and the hardness against his hip giving away his excitement.

_Oh._

That wasn't what he had expected.

Mark craned over him smoothly, his chest pressing against his back, his mouth coming to rest beside his head, his breath just a little harsh in his ear.

"Still don't care?"

The words were slow, mocking, almost harsh. Like a challenge. His voice was lower, and he was more rumbling into his ear than really speaking. Jack felt a shudder go through him, excitement laced with a tinge of fear, as he took a deep breath.

He hadn't expected this. Mark was sweet, and goofy, and loving. He'd expected him to be . . . at least one of those in sex. And yet this . . . wasn't a bad turn. He'd never tried this, never done anything beyond what could be considered vanilla in the bedroom. And yet, it wasn't exactly a turn off. He'd done his fair share of research, found some of the kinkier things that turned him on. He wasn't exactly _opposed_ to it. And if it was with Mark . . . 

Jack swallowed thickly, feeling another little shudder go through him as he realized what he was about to agree to. Mark was giving him an out. If he didn't take it . . . he wasn't sure how far the American would go. And yet, the idea of turning away now seemed beyond his ability.

The Irishman pressed back against him as best he could in the firm lock, a warm blush creeping up his cheeks as he tried to look at the man out of the corner of his eye. Despite the brightness of the kitchen, he looked dark, hooded eyes and pressed lips under a fringe of dark hair.

"Yes." It was all he could manage, quiet and rushed, his breath hissing out from behind his teeth, his heart doing its best to choke him as he waited for the other to respond. There were a few beats of silence, terrifying, before Mark's lips pulled up in another crooked smile, this one full of promises.

"Well then," he said, low and slow, enunciating each word carefully. The hand still tangled in his hair tugged slightly, putting a delicious pressure on him as he leaned forward to speak close in his ear again.

"Yes what?"

Jack's stomach coiled tight, and he couldn't stop the little noise he made, unsure if it was excitement or fear. The reality was slowly starting to sink in, the words hanging on his lips for a long moment, considering, asking himself if he could really do this. This was an unknown, an area he had never really touched, and he was going in blind, with no guarentee that it would be good. And yet . . .

He trusted Mark.

"Yes, sir." His voice was far steadier than he'd expected, and he felt a small thrill at the words, a weird kind of pride rising in his chest at being able to say them, at being able to say them to _Mark_.

Mark's hand loosened in his hair, and the other released his sore arm, pulling his hips closer, flush against him as he ran a hand down his spine, earning another shudder from his captive.

"Good boy."

 _Oh._ Wow. That answered some questions for him, as a sharp thrill raced through his body, his cock straining against his jeans just from the words, and the figure pressed over his back. It took him only a moment to realize he would move mountains to hear those words again.

Mark's hands ran down his sides, taking their time, as if he was mapping him out. Fingers pressed against the fabric, down into the skin, dragging down towards his hips. Jack arched into the touch, a shaky gasp on his lips as he steadied himself on the counter and tried not to move too much. The touch was firm, but not unkind, and he reveled in the feeling, near giddy to finally be touched by him.

Warm fingers slipped under the hem of his shirt, trailing along the skin there, climbing up his back and around his chest. Jack could feel himself gasping openly now, having always been a sensitive lover, and did his best to resist the urge to collapse into him. His hand left the counter, reaching back to run up the dark jeans of the man behind him, trying to pull him closer, loving the rough feel of fabric under his fingers.

But Mark was having none of that. A rough hand enveloped his, snatching it away from his hip and pushing it once more against his back.

"Ah, ah," he chided, amusement in his low voice as he reprimanded him, as one might reprimand a dog. "You don't get to touch without permission."

Jack shivered beneath him, feeling like puddy in his hands as he nodded without hesitation, his breathing sounding harsh to his own ears.

"Y-yes . . . sir."

Mark made a noise deep in his throat at that, pleasure, and he released his wrist, his hands going back to the slow exploration of the Irishman's body.

"Mmm, that's alright," he rumbled softly to him, one hand trailing lazily across a nipple. "I'll teach you some manners."

The image of Mark, standing stock straight, arms behind his back, in his dark suit, invaded his mind, and Jack choked as he realized. The crooked smile, the dark eyes, the way his words stalled at odd points, drawn out and cherished on his tongue.

He was acting like . . . Dark.

Jack had always enjoyed Mark's alter ego, so different from the way Mark usually acted. Calm, composed, suave, with a hint of rage simmering beneath the skin. Dangerous. The suit looked good on him, adding interesting lines to his body, a kind of intimidation factor, and the way he spoke, so slow, sharp under the smooth tones. It was undoubtably attractive.

He'd always assumed it was just one of his many characters, a stereotype he was filling with something so opposite from himself, just for the entertainment of it. He'd never expected it to have some kind of . . . basis.

And yet, here he was, strong arms holding Jack down, familiar voice purring arrogant commands into his ear, the very air thick with his confidence, his command.

He was basically about to be fucked by Darkiplier.

Jack couldn't stop the groan from escaping his throat at the thought.

Suddenly, Mark released him, backing away and looking him over with a critical eye. Jack resisted the urge to move, staying just where he had left him, ass still out, cheek pressed to the counter, breathing heavy as he waited.

"Ah, what a good boy." That thrill shot through him again, and he could feel the pressure building in his jeans, his dick begging for release. They'd barely done anything, and Jack was already so worked up he could barely think straight. "Don't move."

Footsteps faded behind him, down the hall, and Jack struggled to breathe, concentrating on each inhale, slowing each exhale. He'd expected it to be good. The feelings he had for Mark had been clear for weeks, and he knew he was going to be excited if it ever happened. But this was . . . so much more intense than he'd expected.

Mark was back before he'd even had time to learn to breathe again.

"Come on," he murmured into his ear, one hand wrapping around his chest to pull him up, before pressing firmly against his back, driving him from the kitchen, down the hall. Jack struggled to keep his feet beneath him, his heart racing in his chest as he watched the door to Mark's room get closer and closer.

Mark pressed him into the room, gentle but firm, and turned to close the door behind him, the click sounding deafening to Jack's ears.

There was silence for a few long moments, save for Jack's shaky breath, as he stood stock still, arms limp at his side, eyes fixed on the messy bed before him. Blood rushed through his ears, and he did his best to calm his racing nerves, waiting for Mark, or Dark, to move.

"Kneel."

It wasn't a request. The voice was iron, but low, and Jack jerked at the sound, his breath stuttering in his throat. He only hesitated a moment, his legs feeling so shaky, before he bent his knees and hit the ground, his eyes still fixed on the bed before him.

Mark stepped around him slowly, his eyes so impossibly dark and deep as he looked him over, examining him like he was a piece of chattel on sale, and Jack repressed another shudder, waiting desperately for another touch, or command.

Mark only made him wait another moment or so, before he stopped before him, barely a pace away, Jack's mouth just inches from his stomach. A hand coiled its way back into green hair, and Mark forced his eyes up to meet his own, Jack's neck craning hard, and he gasped at the contact, struggling to keep the eye contact. He felt like those brown eyes were burning through him.

And then something changed in those eyes, softened, and Jack watched him swallow, watched the look of almost . . . fear . . . cross his face. His voice was soft, almost a whisper, broken, as he spoke.

"Last chance to back out, Jack."

Jack's chest tightened painfully, and his mouth opened in surprise at the feeling, his brows coming together as he looked up at the beautiful man standing above him. He was . . . scared. Scared to hurt him. Scared to scare him. He saw it, that one brief moment of vulnerability, of fear, of raw emotion as he looked down at his friend, pliant beneath him, and begged him not to hate him. Jack wanted to kiss him, the feeling rising through his body, and he couldn't help but smile up at the American, trying to convey how much he cared through one look, knowing he couldn't string words together well enough to say it. He was such a beautiful creature, so perfect, so sweet and _this_ , and Jack loved him for it.

"I'm not going anywhere, Mark."

The look Mark gave him shot a delicious warmth through his body. And then his eyes darkened again, the hand in his hair sliding down to grasp his chin in a firm grip, forcing him to look him in the eye as he crouched down, bringing them eye to eye.

"Your safe word is 'red'," he said in a low, controlled voice, his eyes holding him in a stronger grip than his hand. "Say it."

"Red," Jack mimicked without hesitation, his stomach twisting with anticipation, his heart still racing.

"Good. You will say it when you want me to stop, and I will stop immediately. Do not hesitate to use this word. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir."

"Good boy." Mark's hand swept back across his face, wrapping warmly around the back of his neck as he continued. "You also have a warning word: 'yellow'. You will use it when you want me to go easier, or when you're reaching your threshold, and I'll ease up. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir." Jack's breathing sounded too loud to him in this quiet room.

Mark looked him over for a long moment, his eyes so dark, intense, and Jack shuddered lightly, never breaking eye contact, forcing himself to hold that look, eager to please him. Mark held him there for another long moment, hand wrapped around his neck, before pulling him forward, slowly, bringing his lips to his ear.

"You will ask before you cum."

"Yes," he groaned in response, the image wreaking havoc on his already tortured mind, and he struggled to hold still, his body aching, shaking, as he waited. He was desperate now, wishing Mark wasn't so slow and in control, wishing he'd just take him here, on the floor, like an animal.

He'd never felt like that before.

Mark straightened back out, towering over him once more, his fingers slipping back into his hair to tug lightly as he considered his captive.

"We'll start easy," he purred in that low voice, a little smile twisting his face as he pulled away and walked to the dresser, where a small assortment of objects lay. Jack couldn't see them all, but he recognized the crop as he pulled it gracefully from its resting place, and a shiver ran through him.

Mark turned back to him, his eyes catching him immediately, holding him as he prowled back, weapon in one hand, binds in the other. Jack could feel the image burned into his brain, scorched into his mind in a way he knew he'd never forget.

"Take off your shirt."

Jack swallowed thickly, hesitating, looking up at the man towering over him. A brief flash of insecurity shot through him, fear at the idea of being even partially bare in front of this man. The lights were off, but mid afternoon sunlight found its way through the curtains, giving enough light to see the room with ease.

He wasn't afraid of what he would do to him. He was afraid of what he would think.

But then Mark raised an eyebrow to him, one smooth motion, and turned his head, before smiling, a small smile, almost . . . sweet. And Jack took a deep breath, and pulled his shirt over his head. He kneeled, holding it in clutched hands, and tried to get his racing heart under control before he looked back up, for Mark's reaction.

Those dark eyes were hungry.

"I'm going to ask you some questions, Jack." The way he said his name, the way his voice curled around it, rumbled and low - Jack wasn't sure anything had ever sounded so good. He watched Mark as he walked slowly around him, straining to see without moving as the other man crouched down behind him, wrapping his hands around his wrists and pulling them behind his back, forcing him to drop the shirt next to him. "And you're going to answer them."

The feeling of soft velvet replaced the warmth of his hands around his wrists, and Jack felt the pressure increase as the soft cuffs were adjusted, tight, pinning his hands behind him. He felt bare, exposed. Vulnerable.

He hadn't expected it to be such a . . . thrill.

"If you answer me correctly," Mark continued, standing and pacing back to stand in front of the Irishman again. "I'll reward you." A warm hand reached up to trail fingers across his face, feathering lightly across his lips. Jack closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, opening his mouth slightly, reaching out as if to catch a finger in his mouth.

"But answer wrong, or lie, or fail to answer at all," the hand was gone, and Jack lamented the loss for a moment, before his eyes snapped open at the feel of cold leather trailing across his bare shoulder. "And I'll have to . . . punish you."

Jack looked up, his breath ragged, as he watched Mark smile that crooked smile again.

"Understand?"

"Yes."

The bite of the crop across his shoulder blade was startling, his back arching away from the feeling, a gasp ripped from his lips as the sting rippled across his skin. Jack could feel his gut coil, pleasure and fear together, as he realized the bite had been soft, despite the pain. Mark had barely moved his arm. It could get so much worse.

"Yes . . . what?"

"Yes sir," Jack gasped, feeling the painful pressure against his jeans as his dick begged for attention. The tension, the build - it was too much. And they'd barely begun.

"Mmm." Mark looked him over, the crop held loosely at his side, his eyes searching for a moment before he took a slow step around him, starting a crawling circle, like a lion circling its prey.

Jack took a shaky breath, heart racing in his chest, excitement and fear roiling together in his stomach as he waited for the first question. He had no idea what he was going to ask, his mind racing as he tried to gather together some semblance of knowledge, all his remembered facts and figures slipping through his mind like water through his fingers.

"Where did we first meet?

"What?" He couldn't stop the word, the surprise at the question overriding the commands he'd given himself. Of all the questions, _that_ wasn't the one he expected to be asked.

The crack of the crop caught him hard across the back, Jack's body arching hard away from it, his breath hissing through his teeth as the pain rushed through him, terrifying - and stirring in ways he wasn't sure he was ready to admit.

"Answer the question." Mark's voice was a purr behind him, as he ran the leather of the crop across the stinging flesh, slowly, soothing. Jack shivered, the breath catching in his throat.

"P-PAX. PAX East."

"Good," he said as he came back into view slowly, the whip perched in a hand clasped behind his back. "When?"

"It was . . ." Jack had to wrack his brain. It was getting harder to think the longer he sat here. "20 . . . 2015." It was hard to keep the question out of his voice. He had to be sure.

"Good." And the word sent shivers down his spine, his blue eyes looking up from dark lashes to watch the man above him as he came to a slow stop, reaching out with one hand to run fingers through his hair. Jack pressed into it eagerly, relishing the touch as rough fingers carded through green hair, then around to press against his cheek, sweet, for a moment, before they were gone again.

"And when did you first start wanting to fuck me?"

Jack hesitated. He couldn't help it, his gut roiling at the question as the blush bled through his cheeks, embarrassment fresh in his chest. He only had a moment to feel it, though, before the crop brought him back to reality.

"Don't think. Answer me."

Jack's eyes locked on Mark's, and he struggled to breathe around his racing heart and the sting in his skin. It took him a moment to find the memory, brief, quick, flashing through his mind for the thousandth time. Mark turning to look at him, so close, his hand closing around his shoulder, again and again, touching him every chance he got, looking so goddamn _good_ with his red hair and stupid ass glasses, and-

"Last year," Jack gasped, struggling to get the words out as the blush crept further across his face. "At PAX Prime."

Mark's mouth turned up in a wide smile, and he let out a slow breath, the faintest groan hidden in the sound. He continued his slow track around Jack, coming to rest behind him, one hand trailing along the skin of his back. Suddenly, he bent over him, his hair just visible out of the corner of Jack's eye as he brought his lips down softly against the side of his neck, starting a small trail of kisses and nips down his neck and shoulder. He took a brief moment to dig his teeth into the meat of his shoulder, deep, but stopping just short of causing real pain, before he stood up and continued his trek. Jack's moan could only be described as _wanton_ at that point.

Mark came back around to stand in front of him again, just enjoying the view as Jack struggled to keep the groans from his voice. The man caught him by the eyes, boring into him as he asked, "How hard are you?"

Jack whimpered, soft in the back of his throat, at the question, but didn't hesitate to answer this time.

"It hurts."

The smile Mark gave him was devilish, as he looked down at his work. A plea was on the tip of Jack's lips, hovering there as he watched the predator above him, waiting for him to give him something, _anything_. He couldn't breathe anymore, his body was strung taught as a bow, and he felt like one whispered touch would be enough to destroy him.

As if he sensed the edge he had reached, Mark shifted his weight, bringing one foot up, slowly, so slowly. Jack watched it with hungry eyes as he guided it up, brushing up the thighs Jack had slowly spread as he sank further and further down on his knees, before pressing it purposefully against Jack's aching cock.

"Oh, god, _Mark_."

He was barely touching him, one foot just pressed against him, not even moving, as he looked down at him with those grinning eyes. But it felt better than a birthday blowjob right then, his body stuttering into the touch, his hips rocking once, hard, trying to find the friction he needed, before the foot was removed, and he was left breathless and needy again.

"Please," Jack groaned, his head hung low, his back curved, as his body ached so painfully. He didn't know how long he could stand this _torture_.

And yet it was better than anything he'd ever had.

"Please? We've barely started, and you're already begging?"

Jack couldn't bring himself to look him in the eye, the shame washing over him as he struggled not to throw himself at him, his hands pressing hard against his restrains. He was _so close_. And he wasn't allowed to touch him. Forced to sit and wait, and obey as Mark played with him, and _god_ he wanted to cum.

Mark chuckled above him, the sound dark and stirring, and Jack felt himself shiver once more as he listened to the deep rolling tone.

"Well, I'll keep my questions short then. Wouldn't want to break you the first day."

The first day. The _first day_. Jack groaned aloud at the thought.

A hand pressed against his cheek, warm and firm, turning him gently up to face his master. His eyes were that same dark intensity, but with a touch of excitement buried in them. Jack could see the way his chest rose with each new breath.

"What do you want."

Jack swallowed hard, trying desperately to keep eye contact as the shame and fear washed over him again, only just failing. His eyes found his lips instead, tracing the thin lines wrapped in stubble, as he focused on his own breathing and forced the words from his throat. It felt like he was trying to rip each word from his chest.

"Touch . . . me. I- I want ya ta t-touch me."

"Really?" Mark's eyebrow curved up, a bemused smile on his face as the hand against his cheek pulled away, trailing fingers over his lips, his jaw, down his neck, and back up again, earning another little shudder.

"I can touch you all you want," he said, and Jack could hear the glee in his voice as he twisted his words, teasing him. "But I figured you'd want something a little . . . more."

He was going to make him say it. Jack nearly blanched at the idea, struggling to keep himself still, his eyes fixed on those smiling lips. He said the words all the time, hell, probably near every day. But never like this. Never when he meant it . . . like this.

"N-no . . . I . . . want ya ta . . ."

The crop bit into him, hard, across the shoulder Mark had bit, and Jack gasped the words around his groan.

"Fuck me, I want ya ta fuck me."

"Good boy."

Mark brought his foot up again to press against Jack's straining cock, with his sole this time, grinding the aching meat between his jeans and his hip. Jack's hips stuttered forward again, his moan coming without hesitation, and he leaned forward, rocking into him desperately. It only lasted a second, but he was so close, _so close_. He just needed a little more.

But too soon Mark was pulling away again, leaving Jack just there, panting and shaking, and just _needing_ it so _bad_. He was walking around him again, disappearing from view, moving so slow and calm and graceful as Jack's world fell apart around him.

"Have you ever been fucked?"

Jack stiffened, his breath catching in his throat, fear creeping into his chest. No. Not that. Why? Why did he have to ask? What would happen if he told him? Would he stop? Would he refuse? He hadn't intended to tell him, especially once he realized he was talking more to Dark than Mark, but he was asking him outright now, and Jack struggled with the decision, taking as much time as he dared before finally blurting an answer.

"Yes."

Jack screamed as the crop bit into him, harder than any of the other times, so much worse, and his stomach rolled as he realized how gentle Mark had been with him up until this point. The burn spread across his back, the searing pain at the whip mark seeping into the skin around it, making him gasp and whimper, his body shaking.

"I told you not to lie to me."

His voice was like ice, cold and hard, unyielding, as he walked slowly back into view, his eyes hooded and dark. Jack gasped around the pain, looking up at him through watering eyes, as he paused to repeat his question, voice like iron.

"Have you ever been fucked by a man?"

"N-no! I've . . . I've never-"

"You want me to be the first?"

Jack looked him in the eyes, searching for a long moment, his body shaking with the stress and the pleasure and the _need_ , and took the time to really consider it. This hadn't been how he'd imagined it. And yet . . . this was _Mark_. _His Mark_. He'd been willing to accept it when he first set out. And this didn't change anything.

He wanted it to be Mark. Only Mark.

No matter who he was.

" _Yes_." His voice was like a hiss, breath rushing out past his lips, as he looked up at the dark man above him, shaking, taught, _wanting_.

The sound Mark made at that was enough to fuel his fantasies for the rest of his lifetime.

Mark pressed his foot against him again, harder this time, and pushed forward, giving Jack the friction he so desperately wanted. Jack bucked against him without hesitation, without shame, curling around his leg, face pressed into his thigh, mouth open, as the world came apart around him.

"Oh yes, fuck- _Mark_ , ah, yes-yes-yes-yes," he moaned, devolving into chanting as his senses left him, the world whiting out in pleasure, and he _groaned_ loudly, speaking but not knowing what he was saying as he came against Mark's foot, the pleasure rolling through him in earth-shattering waves.

He'd never felt anything so painfully _good_.

The world came back to him slowly, colors fading back in first, then shapes, then sounds, his own breathing harsh and loud in his ear. Mark's foot was still pressed against him, held there firmly, and Jack jerked, groaning again at the rough feeling on his sensitive skin.

Everything felt bright, and beautiful, and warm, his body thrumming with pleasure, his lips trying to turn up into a smile even as he gasped to catch his breath. He'd never had an orgasm like that before, like lighting a line of gas to a fuel tanker. His body felt like it had been electrocuted, and he felt so goddamn wonderful, just enjoying the feel of Mark's pants against his cheek.

But then Mark was pulling his foot away, standing on his two feet once more, and wrapping his fingers through Jack's hair, harshly, yanking him up to look at him through his pleasure-hazed eyes.

Mark's expression had electricity shooting through his gut once more.

"Did I say you could cum?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter to come sometime in the future. But feel free to leave a suggestion in the comments if you have another idea for a oneshot you'd like me to write, or more you'd like to see in this fic (may turn it into a series with occasional updates as the mood strikes).
> 
> I've got to write a Mark POV here soon >.>


	2. Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this took a different turn from what I'd intended. I've rewritten this chapter about six times now as I tried to figure it out, and fair warning, it went much fluffier than the first.
> 
> I did write a different version that's a little more . . . hardcore. I'll be posting it after I finish up this version (just one more chapter, because I like dragging stuff out >.>)
> 
> Also, just wanted to say thank you _so_ much to everyone who commented on the last chapter. Y'all have been fantastic, and I really appreciate your feedback and support and beautiful words. Thank you.

Fuck, he was beautiful. Blue eyes blinking at him behind dark lashes. Pale skin quivering under his touch, soft and supple. A light sheen of sweat across lean muscle. Green hair slicked against his forehead as he gasped and panted beneath him.

God, those sounds would be the death of him.

He was whimpering now, Mark's name slipping from his lips as he shut his eyes and strained against his restraints, the muscles in his arms tensing, shaking, his rough hands gripping the line connecting the binds to the bed posts. Not fighting them. Just pulling against the only thing he could reach. Mark squeezed just right, and Jack cried out, his back arching away from the bed, his voice breaking as he begged.

God, he was gorgeous. So gorgeous. A trembling mess beneath him as Mark slowly worked him back to the brink, taking his time, deliberate, painful. He wanted to drive him further, to tear him down bare before him, destroy him, only to build him back up, piece by loving piece, take care of all the broken parts until he was the perfect creature he was meant to be.

Mark had known the scene in the kitchen would be inevitable. They'd been flirting for months, Jack starting it, just teasing and playing at first. But there was this . . . undercurrent. Like sometimes he was trying to say something with just his eyes. And Mark had gone along, happy to play, giddy at the attention and the easy release of the tension that had been building in him for so long.

Stupid. So stupid. But he couldn't help himself. It was fun, and so much easier to just flirt, and pretend it could be a thing, pretend that eventually he'd have the Irishman pliant beneath him. Wishful thinking, but it made him happy nonetheless.

He'd never expected Jack to actually let him do this.

Not many people knew. He was a Youtuber famous for being goofy and fun, an adorable man-child who loved to play, who was sweet and kind, who cried on camera. And that didn't really gel with the whips and chains, and the deep seated desire for absolute control.

And that was fine. He could live with that. He could repress his desires, live a normal life for his friends and his fans, be happy with what he had. He'd never planned on telling them. Especially not him. The idea of the hurt in his face, the way he'd shy away from his touch, fear or loathing or disgust in those pretty blue eyes. He didn't want that. Didn't want to see it.

And yet, here he was, those blues eyes hazed in mindless pleasure, his lips parted, panting his name, hips rocking up to fuck Mark's slick fist.

Fuck, it was too much.

He was trying to go easy on him, trying to take it slow, knowing this was all new to him. The green haired man had done so well at the start, remembering his "sir"s (for the most part), obeying his commands, even answer his questions with little prompting. It was more than Mark had hoped for in his wildest dreams.

He wanted to go further, the memory of Jack coming apart against his leg still so fresh in his mind, the tantalizing urge to punish him properly sitting just under his skin, driving him mad.

He had the flogger, laid out across the dresser, ready. It would have been a proper punishment. The idea of that pale skin reddening under its bite, his strangled gasps, his voice rasping as he counted the strokes. It was the worst kind of wet dream, so tantalizingly close to fruition.

But he didn't want to push him too far. He'd done so well, so well for him, he couldn't break him now. There were other, more naturally pleasurable ways to punish him. His transgression had been small enough this time - he couldn't fault him too much for failing to ask the first time. Maybe . . . maybe, if Jack was interested in a second time . . .

Not that he was complaining about his second choice. Jack was laid out across the bed, wrists tied to the bedpost with velcro cuffs, legs pinned beneath Mark as he straddled him, one slick hand slowly working his aching cock. He'd recovered remarkably fast, stirring to life with feather touches and Mark's voice alone, and he could imagine all the delicious ways he could use that sensitivity, his own erection twitching hungrily.

Jack was getting close again, his breath hiking up, his voice raw as he groaned, hips twitching. Mark was ready, considering, waiting until he could feel the strain in his captive's legs before releasing his hold and watching the man under him cry out in frustration, desperately rocking into empty air, whimpering and begging.

"Please, please Mark, fuck, _please_."

It had been fairly coherent at first, relatively eloquent requests from his tortured lips as he begged for release. He'd looked him in the eye, bright blue, rimmed with pleasure and want, and begged him. He'd tried apologizing, he'd tried bargaining. He'd promised to do whatever he asked, promised to be a good boy, asked him to fuck him silly. Anything but keep up the slow torture of being so close, and denied that release.

But he was getting senseless, the sensation too much, and he wondered if he really knew he was speaking at all at this point. He had strained him to the brink now, his eyes rolling back in his head, his body trembling from exertion, his cock red and swollen and angry. He'd gotten so close, over and over and over again, Mark getting him just there, only to stop, squeezing him at the base or releasing him all together, preventing that moment of oblivion. He'd built him up to a peak he knew was higher than anything he'd experienced before.

Mark stopped, breathing deeply, bringing himself back into control as Jack slowly came back off the brink. He wasn't immune to this either. It had been so long, so very long, since he got to play. And it was with _Jack_ , fucking _Jack_ of all people. He wanted this, maybe more than the quivering mess under him did. He wanted to fuck him silly, drive him so far over the brink his voice would be hoarse for days, leave his mark everywhere across his body, claim him in some irreparable way. He wanted to burn himself into his skin.

He had to breathe, collect himself, his eyes dark as he looked down at the gasping man beneath him. He couldn't take much more. The Irishman was at his limit, or at least at the limit Mark was willing to push him to, and he needed to finish this now, soon. His own shaft was begging for release, straining against his pants, aching for the touch of the smooth, pale skin under him, and he was afraid of what he might do should he push this any farther.

"Okay, Jack," he murmured softly, when the green haired man's panting had finally subsided. He lifted a hand to shift some of that messy hair from his face, smoothing the palm against his cheek, watching the blue eyes flutter open to look at him. Shaken. Taught. Beautiful. God, how had he been so lucky?

"You did well, baby" he rumbled to him, and watched the shiver that danced across his skin, watched the way his dick twitched against his trembling stomach. "You have my permission this time."

He thought he might cum just from his words. Mark gave him a wide smile, and leaned forward to press a kiss against his lips, Jack's hungry mouth chasing him weakly as he pulled away. "Just remember to say my name," he murmured, right into his ear, as his hand wrapped around his burning shaft, and gave it one, long stroke, loving the way he still tensed up, still groaned even around his hoarse voice. Fucking gorgeous.

"W-wait!"

Jack's eyes were open, and he was pulling away, the tired muscles in his arms pulling hard, as if to drag him out from under his captor. Mark froze, breath catching in his throat, an irrational fear flooding through him. Had he done something? Said something wrong, hurt him, scared him? Or had he just finally come to his senses? Mark could feel the dread already pooling in his gut, waiting, waiting for the bomb to drop, for the little fantasy to come crashing down around him.

Jack's brows pulled together when he saw Mark's face, shaking his head, words rushed out.

"No, no, I'm- . . ." He was still gasping, but he was stretching towards him now, pressing against his bonds as he tried to lean forward. His eyes caught Mark's for a moment, impossibly blue, rich and bright and deep, and lit up with an excitement behind the anxiety. He could only hold it a moment before he was looking away again, a rich blush flushing across his pale cheeks. "'m sorry, I just . . . I don't want . . ."

Mark softened, slowly, the hand that had frozen digging into his thigh relaxing, and sliding up to brush across Jack's stomach, up his chest, around his neck, cupping there softly. He smiled, gently, leaning forward to catch Jack's eyes again, trying to reassure him even as his heart raced in his chest. He hadn't fucked up. Not yet. If Jack wanted something different, he was happy to give it. He'd been so good for him, so good, he had earned that at least.

"Mmm, alright," he murmured, his voice rumbling, raw in his chest, as he did his best to keep it from shaking. "What do you want, then?"

The blush was bright against his face, his lip quivering as he looked up at the dark-haired man above him, bashful, nervous, his tongue darting out to lick his lips before he looked away, his face pulling back to press into his arm, hiding. Mark considered leaving him for a moment, enjoying the pink tint spreading across his jaw, down his neck, the jump of his heartbeat against his delicate skin. So pretty, so perfect, _his_.

The hand at his neck trailed up, tangling in green hair, grip firm as he pulled the Irishman from his hiding place, forcing his head back and up as he leaned over him, face just inches above his, dark eyes burning into him, a little smile playing around his lips.

"Jack," he growled, and grinned a wicked grin at the way Jack shuddered at that, his eyes fluttering close for a moment. "Tell me what you want."

As if Mark needed any more evidence of what a good boy he was, Jack only hesitated a moment, his lips pressed into a thin line, eyes squeeze shut, a little noise in his throat before he finally sputtered, "I already told ya."

_Oh._

He could still hear it, gasped from raw lips, blue eyes darting up to look at him, brow furrowed, mouth open in a stuttered groan. He was pretty sure it had been burned into his memory forever.

_"I want ya ta fuck me."_

Fuck. He hadn't planned on it. Well, he had, it had been there in the back of his mind this whole time, and the idea of it now had him wanting to groan, his lips pressing firmly together to try to stifle the sound. But he was trying to take this slow, damnit. He didn't want to scare him, didn't want to push him too far. He hadn't done this before, he'd admitted that, and Mark had no idea what his experience level was, or how ready he really was for it. He might just be worked up now, or just wanted to do it because that's what he thought Mark wanted (jesus, did he want it). He had him half out of his mind at this point. This was a bad idea.

And yet . . .

He had said it fairly early on, the words coming with little coaxing, and he'd looked . . . excited . . . at the prospect. And he'd _stopped_ him just now to ask for it. If he was really just horny, he could have let Mark finish him off. As it was, it would have taken considerable self control to do that.

Jack was trying to hide his face again, pulling against the hand in his hair, trying to reach his arm. But his blue eyes were still fixed on him, peeking out from the side, nervous, excited. Mark considered continuing his earlier torture, working him up until he didn't care how he got it, and just accepted his handjob finish like a good little boy.

But he didn't _want_ to.

"Jack," and his voice sounded broken again, scared to his ears, and he winced. "Jack . . . we don't have to. There's no hurry. We can . . . at any time. It doesn't have to be now." And because he knew he needed it, he leaned forward and growled right into his ear. "I'd be _happy_ to watch you come apart under me again. And then maybe I'll fuck that pretty mouth of yours."

Jack moaned, open mouthed, strangely unashamed, but he was shaking his head, determined, turning his head back to look him straight on.

"No." And he swallowed, his jaw jutting forward just a little, adorable and determined, and fuck, he was gonna be the death of him.

"I know what I want."


	3. Sated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic went way more vanilla than I intended, I have so many dirty ideas floating around, so I probably will be adding some oneshots to this series. Feel free to request things in the comments, for this fic and any others you wanna see ;)
> 
> Also, thank you so much to everyone for all your awesome support, it's really been incredible and I really appreciate it!

Jack took another shaky breath, his face pressed as far into the crook of his arm as he could manage, legs spread for the man above him, and tried not snap them shut as he felt the eyes on him. He knew what he looked like. Pale, so sickly pale, dark hair and wiry legs, his cock sticky and red against his stomach. Not exactly a fairytale princess.

But Mark didn't seem to mind. He groaned above him, quiet but there, as his fingers danced up his thigh, slick and warm. One hand came up to grasp his overly-sensitive shaft once more, Jack's body jumping into the touch, the ghost of the frustration still echoing through his limbs as he remembered the slow torture he'd sat through. The other brushed down, lower, and Jack swallowed the anticipation rising in his throat, fear and excitement mingled together, and tried to remember how to breath.

He'd done this before. Not the being . . . fucked part. He hadn't lied about that. But he'd tried some things. With someone else once. With himself on several occasions. And he knew he _could_ do it, and _could_ get off to it, if he calmed down. Which was the hardest part. Just preparing for this in the bathroom earlier in the afternoon had been an overwhelming experience, and now he was half out of his mind with lust, and his heart was trying to strangle him.

Which was maybe a good thing, because at this moment, he couldn't really find it in himself to give two shits about the coming pain. He was taut as a bow, straining, his body desperate for release, for _Mark_. The idea of Mark fucking him, Mark's cock driving into him, Mark's firm hands holding him down, had him panting and pressing back against the fingers pressed against his entrance, a throaty moan escaping his lips. Fuck it. Fuck him. He was ready.

Mark slipped one finger in easily, and Jack shuddered, taking in the strange mix of feelings as his body adjusted to the sensation. Mark's other hand was stroking him lazily, drawing little waves of pleasure down to his toes, and Jack closed his eyes and waited for that pleasure to drive away the discomfort. He could feel himself slowly clenching around the intrusion, and did his best to relax as Mark slowly pushed in and out.

He added a second finger quickly, and Jack tried not to tense, his body shaking under the stress, his aching cock jumping in Mark's hand as he stretched him out. He was slow, careful, just moving in and out and letting him adjust to the feeling, before he finally crooked his fingers, searching for the spot.

He found it in record time, twisting his fingers just right, and Jack saw stars, air ripping into his throat in a raw gasp. It was surprising, had always been surprising, how insane that feeling was. So alien, and weird, his body trying to pull away from it even as bolts of pleasure shot through him, like a tiny slice of orgasm.

"There," Jack rasped, his body arching up as the feeling faded, pressing back against him, chasing the sensation. Mark crooked his fingers again, and Jack couldn't help the moan that rumbled through his chest. "Yes, _yes_ , there."

"Mmm, what a pretty sight." Mark's voice was rough above him, just a little raw, like he had been yelling, and Jack drank it in, closing his eyes against his arm and focusing on the sound and sensations, even as the blush burned up his cheeks. "Fuck, look at you, spread out for me so nice."

" _Mark_ ," Jack whined, because fuck, that voice did things to him. Rough and familiar, but still so different now, the tone intense and tight and strained, and he hadn't done it _any_ justice when he had fantasized about it. Though, to be fair, he hadn't really been picturing _this_.

His wrists were still pinned above him, though he had somehow scooted up enough on the bed for the line to be a little slack, giving him enough space to properly hide his face. Mark was towering over him, propped up on one knee, suddenly looking so much larger, despite their similar heights, and he felt raw, exposed, vulnerable under his frame.

And he was going to fuck him like this. _Mark_ was going to fuck him, and he was completely at his mercy, bound and laid out for him like a gift, puddy in his hands. His body trembled at the thought as the American's fingers brushed against his prostate again, his back arching weakly as he keened.

"Mark, _please_."

"Please what?" He was breathless, his voice ragged as his hand quickened against his cock, dragging another long whine from his captive. "Please fuck you? Please make you cum? Please drive my cock into your tight little ass, open you up and fuck you silly? What do you want, baby, gotta tell me."

Jack was gasping, trembling, the heat spreading across his face, bright and warm, as the words coiled deliciously in his gut, fueling images to drive him insane. The fingers inside him were stretching out now, scissoring him open, preparing him, and he rocked his body back as the last of the discomfort started to fade, fucking himself on the digits.

"You want me to spread you nice and slow-" He was murmuring right into his ear now, fingers pressing harshly inside him. "-let you feel the heat of my cock as I sink it down inside you, let you taste it for the first time. Think you'll scream when I start fucking you, when you feel me slide so deep, hit that spot. Think you'll wrap so pretty around me, fuck you're so warm and tight, gonna feel so good for me, baby, _fuck_."

"Mark, fuck me, _please_ ," His mouth felt like a separate entity, spewing words without his permission while he was lost in Mark's voice, gasping and so close. "'m gonna cum, please, wanna cum . . . with yeh . . . in me, _please_."

Mark's groan shook him to his core.

"Fuck, what a good boy."

The fingers were gone, the hand on his shaft slowly to an agonizing pace, before disappearing as well, as Mark pulled away. The little pocket of warmth created between the two dissipated quickly, and Jack was left shivering, and riddled with lust.

Jack took a moment, just trying to get enough air in, feeling the waves of anticipation rocking through him, even as the fear skirted around the edges. He was going to be fucked. He was gonna let Mark fuck him. All the thinking about it, and fantasizing about it, and flirting about it, all leading up to this, and he didn't know if he could handle this, it was so _much_.

He pulled his face away from his arm, just a little, suddenly desperately wanting to see, to make this real and give himself a real image to look back on and know what this was like. But he wasn't really ready for the image he got.

Mark was looking at him, his lips parted just barely, a sheen of sweat across his brow. One hand was setting the little bottle of lube next to the bed again, not looking at it, eyes only for his captive. His shirt was off now - when did he miss that? - and his chest was tense, deep breaths making the faint light dance across his skin. Jack's eyes trailed down, following the tense lines in his arm, soaking in the color of his skin, the way he shivered, as he slowly worked a hand over his aching shaft.

Oh. Fuck. That was . . . very real. Thick and rigid, veins running in jagged lines over its surface, the head swollen and dripping, and Jack swallowed thickly, his mouth going dry. He was going to fuck him with that. Which was both delicious and terrifying, because it was probably the most beautiful thing he could have seen right then, but it was also definitely bigger than his toy.

"Seán."

Jack's breath stuttered in his throat at the sound of his name, his eyes snapping up to lock on his face as Mark leaned forward, slowly crawling up his frame to crane over him, blocking out everything else in the world. Jack's face went back to his arm, burrowing into the crook of his elbow, because he was definitely making a stupid face, and he couldn't stand looking at the way Mark was looking at him, all hungry and powerful and wanting, and this was way too much.

He felt the pressure at his entrance, big, and hot, and insistent, and he felt his body tense even as he craved it. That was probably gonna hurt. Not probably. It _was_ going to hurt. But it was gonna be so _good_.

Suddenly, big fingers were threading their way through his bangs, tugging his face firmly from its hiding place, baring his red cheeks to the cool air of the room, and Mark's chocolate eyes looking down at him. Jack let out a little noise, a little whine, but didn't pull away. His eyes darted back to the older man's face, shy and more than a little embarrassed, and gave him a quick nervous smile.

"I'm gonna fuck you now-" Jack sucked in a breath, as if he'd been gutted, but didn't look away. "-and you're going to watch me."

Jack could only wordlessly nod in response, feeling his lip tremble as his eyes traced Mark's face. His hair was flipped down in his eyes, casting strange shadows, and his mouth was open, just a little. He could hear his ragged breaths, could feel the warm air splash against his jaw, could see the way his nostrils flared as he lined himself up. He was tense, one arm holding him up over top him, the hand pressing just behind his shoulder, and he could see the muscles jumping there as he held himself steady.

He started to push in, and Jack couldn't help but shut his eyes, shut out the sudden discomfort. His body rebelled against the feeling, tensing hard around him, and he could feel Mark's groan reverberate through his chest even as he struggled to take him, biting his lip hard to keep back the whimper that threatened to escape. The pain was there, sharp instead of the burn he'd expected, and he took quick, shallow breaths, trying to accommodate his size.

"Seán." This time his tone was harder, commanding, and Jack opened his eyes without even thinking, looking back up to the dark face above him.

His brow was furrowed, deep, casting new lines across his face. His eyes were dark, burning, catching him and holding him there as he waited, not quite inside, for Jack to adjust to the feeling. The Irishman took a deep breath, slow, and tried to relax, tried to stretch the tight ring of muscles to allow passage, even as his body fought him.

"I'm going to move again," Mark told him after a few moments, his voice low, more a murmur than anything. "Try to relax."

His hips pressed forward ever so slightly, just adding a bit of pressure. A little hiss escaped Jack's lips before he could stop it, his eyes squeezing shut again as he slowly rocked. He was moving so slowly, just tiny, shallow thrusts, not really going any deeper, just taking his time, stretching him out. And after a minute, Jack could feel himself starting to relax, to let him in, bit by bit, until the head finally popped past the tight ring, and he groaned low in his throat.

That felt much better, even as he struggled to breathe around the intrusion, his body grateful for the slight drop in girth around the shaft. Blue eyes peeked up to look at his face again. He was breathing slow, deep breaths as he watched him, dark hair obscuring part of his face and dark lashes shading his eyes. He looked . . . beautiful. Dark, and controlled, his skin sliding over rigid muscle as he slowly rocked against him, still shallow and sweet. Jack watched him, mesmerized, before clenching carefully around him, the tight ring of muscle grasping the burning shaft within him firmly.

Oh, _wow_. He looked like he'd been punched in the gut, his mouth opening sharply, a little choked sound slipping past his lips as his eyes rolled back. Jack did it again, harder, and this time he moaned loud, a whispered "fuck" under his breath, and Jack found himself grinning, even as his body shook.

Suddenly, Mark snapped his hips forward, and Jack couldn't stop the strange guttural noise ripped from his lips as he felt him slide across that sweet spot. _Fuck_ , that was sharp, blinding, driving coherent thought right out of his head with one easy movement. His eyes flipped back to Mark, and he watched the crooked grin twist its way up his face.

_Fuck_.

"Again," he whispered, and Mark obliged without hesitation, snapping his hips forward again, and then again, without waiting. Jack's fingers wrapped around his binds, digging into the nylon sharply, gritting his teeth at the warring sensations. It still hurt, his body still trying to rebel. But fuck, when he got that spot, it was _incredible_ , like a little mini orgasm each time, and fuck, how did it feel like this?

"Mm, fuck, you're so tight," Mark groaned, making Jack squeeze around him again. "Wrapping around me so sweet, god, look at me."

The arm holding him up went down onto his elbow, his fingers wrapping themselves back in green hair, holding him there as his other hand reached down to tug at his leaking shaft. Jack moaned, and struggled not to throw his head back as the pleasure washed through him, boiling in his gut, his toes curling, his skin feeling like fire, before it suddenly hit the precipice.

"Fuck, Mark, can I cum?"

He'd sworn he'd remember the second time, and he did, but fuck there was no way he was going to be able to stop if Mark told him no. His eyes were wide, brows pressing a crease into his forehead, mouth open in a wordless moan as he watched Mark's face, watched the way he sucked in a breath and groaned before moving to crush his lips against his own.

"Yes, cum, cum for me," he hissed against his mouth, his thrusts coming more powerful, shaking through his body, and Jack held on for another moment, drinking in the man above him, before coming apart under him.

He was pretty sure he screamed, Mark's mouth catching the sound as his back arched off the bed, legs squeezing hard against olive hips as he painted his stomach white. Pleasure rolled through him deliciously, washing over him like a tidal wave, his body jerking, nails digging into nylon, before he finally collapsed with a raw moan, rolling his hips once to chase the last of the pleasure before his body gave out.

They lay like that for a few moments, neither speaking, just breathing heavy as Jack tried to catch his breath.

Holy fuck. He'd never cum that hard in his life. He felt drained, like someone had squeezed him out, wringing every drop of pleasure they could find out of him, leaving him limp and boneless, and so deeply satisfied.

He'd sit through the pain for that any day.

After a few moments, his sensitive body twitched, clenching around the cock still buried inside him, and Mark stiffened above him, a choked sound in his throat. Jack cracked one eye, glancing up at the man above him, a strange sense of gratitude flooding through him, and he almost thanked him - until he saw his face.

His lips were pressed in a hard line, his eyes distant, his nostrils flared as he struggled to keep his breathing regular. He looked in pain, and Jack's stomach flipped as he realized.

Mark hadn't cum yet.

"Keep going," Jack croaked without hesitation, his weary body weakly pressing back against him, the feeling drawing a shudder from him. Mark closed his eyes, briefly, taking a deep breath, looking like he was going to refuse before Jack pressed again, harder, squeezing the burning shaft inside him. "Please."

"Are you sure?"

He sounded broken, voice ragged, deep, groaning, and Jack nodded quick, life slowly seeping back into his limbs. He pressed up, arching his back a little, just enjoying the strange sensations now that his insanity had dissipated some. He felt so full, his body still boneless, and warm all over, and he grinned up at the American, flipping sweat hair from his eyes. "Oh, I'm sure."

Mark hesitated a moment, before bring his hands up to rip at the cuffs on his wrists, freeing him in seconds. One hand fell to his olive shoulder immediately, pressing against the muscle, soaking in the warmth, squeezing a little in encouragement. This was strangely nice. He almost-

And then Mark thrust again, hard, and Jack couldn't catch the cry torn from his lips as the brutal sensation ripped through him.

It was intense. Far more intense than a few minutes before, like if he tried to keep fucking after he came, and yeah, this was pretty much the same thing, but he hadn't even thought about it. It _hurt_ , not like the burning pain of being prepared, or the sharp pain when Mark had shoved inside him, but just this unbearable intensity, driving him mad with each ruthless stroke. He was crying out with each thrust, his body shaking, his hands gripping into Mark's skin _hard_ just trying to hold on as he fucked him in earnest.

Tears sprung in his eyes as he gasped, trying to catch his breath, babbling incoherently, and he couldn't tell if he wanted him to stop, or keep going forever, because fuck this was incredible, but he wasn't sure how long he could stand it.

"Mark, oh, _fuck_ Mark, fuck me, fuck me, god, ah _fuck_ ," a string of expletives, disjointed and rambling poured from his lips, and he pulled him closer, fingers digging harshly into his messy hair, nails digging into his back as his legs came up to wrap around his hips. Mark was groaning into his neck, teeth scoring little marks against his skin, and Jack gave him all the access he needed, struggling to keep up as Mark's thrusts became erratic.

"Jack, _Seán_ , fuck."

"Cum, cum in me, cum for me Mark, _please_."

And Mark obeyed, his teeth digging into the meat of his shoulder as he rutted against him hard, and fast, before stilling and groaning a broken noise into his neck. Jack gasped, arching his back at the feeling of warmth gushing into him, his hands buried in dark hair, holding him against his throat as they both gasped into the growing darkness.

Jack pressed his face against the other's, closing his eyes, drinking in the feeling of their sweat and his cum pooling between them, and tried once again to remember how to breath.

_"Thank you."_

And it didn't matter who said it, as they both drifted towards sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this whole thing is just shameless smut ._.


End file.
